


Separate Agendas

by SweetDragonSeeker



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/M, Gen, Or Friendship, however you want to see really, ongoing, romance maybe?, season one - on, sometimes more of one, sometimes more of the other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-03-16 16:55:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3495884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetDragonSeeker/pseuds/SweetDragonSeeker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She grows tired of watching him degrade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Adam Taurus

**Author's Note:**

> This idea wandered into my head a few months ago, and stuck. So now it's written out. Starts prior to season one and on past the end of season 2 into the realm of speculation. Each chapter will be a moment in time, but they'll all fit together in the end. As usual, I don't own RWBY. Enjoy!

"Blake, right?" the voice is deep and gravelly in a raw, smoky kind of way, and she turns to find a tall young man standing behind her, watching her through the slits of his mask. The glow of the floodlights that illuminate the warehouse dance through his dual-colored hair and catches on the horns that stand in the midst of the windswept locks.

"That's me." She nods cautiously, and he inclines his head slightly in return. She can feel his gaze scan over her. The light illuminates the designs on his mask then, and she realizes she's seen him before, sweeping in and out of protests and meetings for nearly two years now.

"Good." He still sounds as though he swallowed embers. "You're with me."

"You're Adam?" those who kept charge of the White Fang had told her she'd be partnered with a man named Adam for at least the beginning of her work for their cause. He nods, and she's slightly surprised; he always seemed too much of a loner to accept a partner, let alone one as green as her.

"Adam Taurus." He turns then, gesturing with one gloved hand for her to follow. She does, slipping through the crowd in his wake with feline ease. She catches up with him before he reaches the doors, and though she isn't yet quite brave enough to touch him, she moves close enough to his side to be heard over the now-raucous crowd.

"So what are we doing?"

He pushes through the door and out into the scattered moonlight beyond. She follows, moving until her shadow lines up with his on the rocky ground.

"Recon mission." He sounds mildly peeved about it. She gives him a questioning look. "You're not ready for anything else yet. Would just be a liability."

She frowns at that, a spark of anger igniting in her chest. She _is_ ready. That's what she's been telling them for weeks. She wants to do her part, win for her kind the equality that they should have had all along.

He must catch something of her thoughts in her face, because the barest hint of a smile curves one corner of his mouth.

"We'll get there soon enough." He tells her, and it sounds like a promise. She nods, and he moves on, headed for the small heard of bikes parked in the shadow of the warehouse. He glances back at her when he reaches a sleek black model, trimmed in red, and swings his leg over the seat. "You coming?" his voice is a rumble, nearly drowned out beneath the deep purr of the engine as he kicks the bike to life. A smile curves her lips as well, and she stalks forward, clambering onto the seat behind him and curling her fingers into his long coat.

"Let's go."

He revs the engine, and the machine roars. Then he takes his foot off the ground and they take off, speeding down the street with the cool night air whipping against their sides and tearing at her hair. She asks again where they're headed, but the speed of their travel steals her voice. She decides it doesn't matter. Finally, after all these years, she's _doing_ something; anywhere is a good place to start.


	2. Drive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter two. This is probably the scene that started this whole idea. Lots of Adam, these first few chapters. Hope y'all enjoy. :)

“Give it more fuel.” Adam grumbles in her ear, hands warm on her waist as she steers the bike through the myriad of trees. “C’mon, or we’ll never get there.”

                “We have time.” She hisses back, though her hands tighten on the handlebars as she spurs the bike to a higher speed. Adam has been giving her lessons in driving his motorcycle off and on for the last week or so, but she’s still not very good; she’s not sure she ever will be, at least with the huge model he favors. She needs something smaller, more in her weight class; she can barely even touch the ground with her toes from the seat, making it almost impossible to drive without Adam there to help balance it.

                “Left.” Adam growls, and she jerks the handlebars just in time to avoid a stone that would have sent them sprawling. “Left again.”

                Another jerk of the handlebars, and they’re zooming down a hill toward the creek that separates them and the mile of flatland between them and their camp. She took it slow when she crossed the waterway earlier, at the start of today’s driving lesson, but this time gravity is in play, pulling them downward, and she can’t put the brakes on without risking sending both of them flying over the handlebars.

                “Um, Adam-”

                The wheels hit the water with a splash, sprays of water arcing into the air, and the tires slip on algae-covered stone.

                “Jump.” Adam orders, then leaps free himself, trusting her to follow. She’s not quite fast enough. The bike tips, falling sideways into the chill water and sending her crashing in beside it with an irritated yowling sound. When she surfaces, spluttering, Adam’s at her side, fishing out the bike.

                “You alright?” he asks her while dragging the motorcycle back onto dry land. She glares at him.

                “I’m fine.” And _wet._

He’s faced mostly away from her, but by the curve of his cheek beneath the edge of his mask she can tell he’s smirking; she must’ve sounded as disgusted as she feels. Still fuming, she clambers to her feet and stalks out of the creek, squeezing water from her hair.

                “You should have jumped.” He comments dryly, propping the bike up on its kickstand and turning to look at her, arms crossing over his chest. She doesn’t deign to answer him, and he remains silent, watching her finish wringing out the hem of her shirt and reach back to drag off a boot and pour the water out. There’s still the shadow of a smirk on his face; somebody else might not notice, but she’s been working with him for months now, and she’s learned to read his expressions and moods, no matter how subtly they pass over his face.

                “You can laugh.” She tells him coolly, swapping boots. She knows he won’t laugh- it takes more that this to bring out his laughter- but the words do succeed in drawing the smirk back into full play on his face. He shrugs without speaking, and when both of her boots are firmly back in place he turns back to the bike, settling onto the seat.

                “We should get back to camp.” He murmurs, and moves back a little, offering her another chance at driving. If she weren’t irritated and still soaking wet despite her efforts to get as much water out of her hair as possible, she might take it. Instead, she clambers on behind him, pushing him forward, and wraps her arms around his waist.

                “You drive.”

                She feels his rumble of assent as she rests her cheek against his back, relishing the dry warmth of his jacket against her cold skin. He kicks the bike into motion, and she sighs, watching the trees go by. It’s not far back to camp. Her eyes close contentedly at the thought. Dry clothes and a warm fire. She squeezes Adam tighter. Nothing could sound better.


	3. Kill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It isn't what she thought it would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another scene I had in mind when I first started planning this. So enjoy. :)

The first time she kills a man, it’s an accident, and she doesn’t cry. She feels too much for that. Too much shock. Fear. Anger. Sorrow. She can’t cry, can’t speak, can’t breathe, and she curls up in a ball in a blood-splattered corner, burying her face in her knees, and shakes. Her weapon lies forgotten on the ground where she dropped it, and the smell of death fills the air. She’s never smelled anything quite like it before, and the stench nearly makes her sick. It’s been all recon missions before this; this was supposed to be no different. Adam didn’t think she was ready. She argued with him. Now she knows that he was right. She wasn’t ready. She still isn’t.

The battle isn't over; Adam is still fighting. She should get up, help him, but she's quaking so badly she can't get to her feet.

Killing isn't what she thought it would be.

The edge of her vision flares red, and the air fills with falling rose petals. A moment later, Adam crouches before her, bringing with him the scent of dying roses, driving out the stench of murder with something familiar. Something sweeter.

"Come here." His voice is as soft as she's ever heard it. He drops Gambol Shroud into her lap, and her fingers clench around the metal. It feels solid, safe, but not half so solid and safe as Adam does when he scoops her up, cradling her against his chest as he carries her out of the bloodstained building.

"You're fine." He murmurs, and the fingers of her free hand wrap a handful of his shirt in a white-knuckled fist.

He kicks the door open and carries her back out to the bike, which he'd equipped with a new muffler just for this mission, for all the good it'd done them. He tucks her in front of him for the drive back to camp. By the time they get there and he cuts the engine, she's better, soothed by the rumble of the bike and Adam's calm presence, but she still shakes. He climbs off the bike first, then turns back to her, taking her chin between his gloved fingers and tilting her face up.

"Get some wood for the fire. Don't go too far. I'm going to make sure no one followed us."

She nods, still slightly listless, and his grip tightens, just enough to get her full attention.

"You're fine." He reiterates. She blinks at him, feeling tears finally beginning to pile up behind her eyes.

"I killed-"

"You did what you had to." He interrupts sharply. "That's all."

She hesitates, staring at him, wishing not for the first time that she could see his eyes behind the mask.

"…Alright." She whispers.

"Good." He leans in, presses a hard kiss to her forehead. Then he's gone, sprinting off through the trees. She remains on the bike, pressing her hand to the place he kissed. Adam isn't much given to shows of affection, in general; that kiss tells her how worried he was, though he's not usually given to worrying either.

By the time he gets back, she's huddled by a small fire in the semi-dark, watching the flames. Neither speaks. He caught a small pheasant-like animal on the way back, and he roasts it over the flames, offering her half when it's been cooked through. She eats only a few bites before moving to her sleeping roll and collapsing upon it, body exhausted from shock and stress and her mind still too busy for slumber.

Adam rises slowly from the fire not long after, and walks to her side, then drops down onto her sleeping role too, lying with his back to her and giving her the comfort of his presence as he watches the woods beyond their circle of firelight. She forces herself to relax, and not long after she drifts into sleep, breathing in fading roses with every breath.


	4. The Quiet Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the quiet times that are never long enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed writing this one. A lil bit of sweetness with hints toward the future.... :) Enjoy.

                The missions are getting harder, longer, more high-stakes. She and Adam work well together, and with every mission she gets stronger, more confident in herself. Killing never gets easier, but she learns to lock away the horrors, bury them until they can no longer interfere.

                It’s one of the rare nights that they sleep in a house rather than a camp; the Faunus who own it are rodents of some kind, quiet and shy, but more than happy to lend a room to members of the White Fang.

                The day’s been long, and a lot of people- enemies, she reminds herself- have died, and all she wants to do is shower and sleep. Adam remains downstairs while she goes up to bathe, drinking hard cider with- or apart from- their hosts, but by the time she emerges from the bathroom he’s come upstairs as well and is standing by the window in his shirt and slacks, jacket draped over the end of the bed. Holding the fluffy blue towel around herself with one hand, she sits on the edge of the bed and combs out her hair with her fingers. Their hosts offered her nightclothes, but she waits until he goes into the bathroom and she hears the water start up again, and retrieves his shirt instead; she doesn’t like sleeping in strangers’ clothing. When he emerges, dressed again in slacks and mask, she’s taken his place by the window. She takes a moment to glance around at him, and smiles wryly at the sight of the mask. She’s seen him without it before, but never around other people. She’s not even sure that the people who recruited him to the White Fang know what he looks like any more.

                He raises a brow over the edge of the mask, but doesn’t comment; she’s stolen his shirt before, and he always gives her the same look, as though asking why she would want it.

                They go to bed shortly after, first her and them him, and she falls asleep stretched out against his side with one of his hands in her hair. He still smells of wilting roses despite the shower; it’s the one scent that never leaves him.

                The quiet nights are never long enough, and he wakes her well before dawn as he leaves the bed. They dress in the dark, too accustomed to each other to worry much about privacy, and they’re back on the road before the edge of the sun begins to creep over the horizon. She goes back to sleep while he drives, trusting him to keep her with him and not let her fall off the bike. The next time he wakes her, they’re parked on the edge of a town where the White Fang are protesting later. As mundane as it seems, they’re part of the security team for the day. Blake dons a mask as well, and loses herself in the screaming crowd, just one more masked Faunus in a sea of protestation.

                It’s a quiet day, in spite of all the screaming and shouting, and it throws into sharp relief just how violent her days have become. Adam, in contrast, looks bored every time she sees him. All in all, it’s relaxing, but not Adam’s idea of the best way for the White Fang to forward its agenda.


	5. No Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, right and wrong really is black and white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is the prompt that this chapter was originally attached to. Please enjoy; things are gonna start getting tense for these two from here on out, though they have a few sweet moments left. :)

                 Adam’s covered in blood and rose petals. There’s nothing unusual about it; Blake is more than accustomed to it by now, has experienced the feeling herself. Except that this time, she’s not sure that the people he killed deserved to die.

                “Let’s go.” He brushes past her as though nothing is wrong, coat rippling and shedding scarlet petals in his wake, and for a moment she doesn’t think to do anything but follow. He’s her partner; she trusts him. He’s always done what he thinks is right, best for their kind.

                But a little voice in the back of her mind tells her that just because he thinks it’s right, doesn’t mean he can’t be wrong.

                “Adam.” She catches his arm before he can mount the bike where it’s parked on the side of the street outside. He pauses, tilting his head to show her that he’s listening. “This isn’t right.” She tells him earnestly. “It didn’t used to be like this; how can we make peace between us and them if all we do is kill?”

                His expression doesn’t change.

                “Nobody said this job would be easy.” He retorts, voice gruff, and he turns to face her more fully. “We do what we have to; sometimes that means killing them before they have a chance to kill us.”

                She doesn’t think that that’s true; that it has to be this way, but he doesn’t give her time for a rebuttal. He climbs onto the bike and kicks it to life, then casts a glance over his shoulder as though to ask if she intends to stay there.

                For a second, she considers telling him to go on without her. It’s only a fleeting thought, however, and she moves forward, clambering on behind him. Her fingers fist in his coat, grip light and hesitant for the first time in a long time. Then her forehead thunks against his shoulder-blade as she gives into the familiarity of him. He releases a breath that she hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

                His relaxation relaxes her too, if only slightly. For a moment, at least, he must have been worried. Worried that he’d made her angry enough to leave him. On some level, then, he must’ve realized that something was wrong. If that’s so, then she has a chance of fixing things. Of making him see exactly how wrong this is.

                She’s still not happy with him, but at least now she knows that there might be a chance she could make things better- for both of them.


	6. Contrast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, who he was and who he's becoming seem like two different people altogether.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's all downhill from here....not really. XD

                She’s begun to draw away from him, as much as she can while she’s still his partner. She can’t think of any other way she can cope with what he’s becoming without leaving him completely, and she’s not ready to go that far. So she sleeps on the opposite side of the fire now, follows her own rules on missions without directly challenging his. She hasn’t killed anyone in weeks, and while she can’t say the same of him, she feels better about herself without fresh blood staining her hands. Adam can’t have missed the change in her, but he says nothing. She’s not sure if that makes things better, or worse.

                Three weeks after the last of the old bloodstains have faded, something goes wrong.

                “Adam!”

                It’s no human she faces this time, but a Grimm, bigger than any she’s ever faced before. She has no qualms in killing it, if only she could get close enough to do it, but it’s also faster than any she’s met before, and she can’t seem to do much more than scratch its hide.

                A paw descends, knocking her backwards, and she executes a flip to keep her feet, only for the beast to strike her again in midair.

                “Blake!”

                Adam’s fighting his own battle with a similar Grimm, but he sees her fall and his shout echoes off the surrounding trees. He can’t get around his own enemy in order to aid her, however; she’s on her own.

                Rolling to the side to avoid being crushed into the ground, she manages to get off a shot with Gambol Shroud, for the little good it does her. Claws rake her side, and she half-yowls, half-screams. A double takes form, shielding her as she tries to rise, and then, failing that, to scramble backwards out of reach. Blood oozes from her side and panic floods her system, making it impossible to activate her aura. Her double falls beneath sharp white jaws.

                She shrinks into the bloodstained grass and fires until she’s out of bullets. She’s not sure whether she wants to curse or cry. She’d like to run, find a place to reload her weapon and patch up the gaping hole in her side, but she’s not sure how she’s going to do that when she can’t even get off the ground. She lifts Gambol Shroud again, the firearm becoming a blade in her grip, and she raises it with both hands. Then Adam’s wrapped around her, a nimbus of scarlet and black with Wilt in one hand and Blush in the other, and her world goes black.

                When she wakes, she’s lying on a bed role beside a low-burning fire, her side coated with bandages and a headache splitting her skull. Above, the sky is dark and the moonlight tumbles down to dance with the glow of the fire.

                “Adam?” her dry throat makes her voice raspy, and she wonders how long she’s been asleep.

                “I’m here.” Adam’s own scorched tones come from behind her, and she rolls over carefully to find him standing leaning against one of the tall trees at the edge of the camp. The contrasting lights, silver and gold, dapple across his mask and cast deep shadows over his already dark clothes.

                She gets to her feet carefully, and feels his eyes on her as she moves gingerly to their supplies for a drink. He doesn’t move or speak, and somehow she finds that soothing. She’s used to this, to him, and for the first time in weeks she’s not so angry with him. She crosses the space between them with slow even steps, and rests her forehead lightly against his shoulder. His hand comes up, resting carelessly, but not painfully, against her bandages, and she sighs.

                No matter how much he’s changing, how much she hates how he’s changing, there are moments when everything still feels alright; when he still feels _safe._


	7. Separate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's going to find a way to save him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, and here we finally start lining up with events we've seen. Obviously, this takes place during/after the Black Trailer. I'll try and update again quick, cause this really feels like a filler. Enjoy.

                “What about the crew?”

                “What about them?”

The moment the words leave Adam’s mouth, she forces herself to admit that, for her, this is all over. She no longer fits into this niche that’s been hers since she first climbed onto Adam’s bike, or perhaps it no longer fits her. She’s been watching the White Fang degrade from the inside, watching Adam degrade. She’s tired of watching.

                She finishes out the battle. Does her best to keep herself and Adam alive, just like it’s always been, like she thought it always would be. And when they reach the end and the air is filled with rose petals, she puts an end to it. She separates one train car from another, the crew from danger, herself from Adam.

                It’s time for her to find her own way to change the world.

                Adam reaches out for her as the train cars separate, as though asking her why she’s leaving. To stay with him. She looks down, away from him. She won’t let his confusion, his failure to understand why she has to do this, change her decision.

                She’s going to fix this. Him and the world.

                When the train stops, she leaps down from her perch and away, vanishes before the crew can discover her, and for a few days she wanders, uses the skills the White Fang and Adam drilled into her to hide while she’s trying to decide where to begin this new future, her mission to save the world.

                The answer is easier than she thought it would be.

                To become a huntress is to become a hero. She can’t think of a better place to begin. So she does some research, finds out which of the combat schools is the best for training the best hunters and huntresses the kingdom can lay claim to. She sets her sights high and never so much as thinks about backing down or failing. Neither is an option. She loves her people, and she’s failing them. She loves Adam, and she’s failing him too. It doesn’t matter how much her heart aches. She ties her ears up in a pretty bow and deletes his name from her vocabulary. No one can know who she is or the things she’s done.

                She gazes at her reflection in a huge shiny window and tries to smile. Beacon is huge, a world of its own. One where she’s not sure she belongs. She almost turns right around and runs. Almost. But that isn’t an option either. Not anymore.


	8. Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sun is nothing like Adam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we go. Takes place obviously after they first encounter Sun.

                Sun is nothing like Adam.

                “Hey, c’mon.” he drops down from the top of the statue where he was lurking and tilts his head, eyes alight and a grin lurking at the corner of his mouth. She gives him a wary look in return, her own eyes narrow and glittering gold frost.

                “Where?”

                He grins, and the expression is so honest and easy that it makes the corner of her mouth twitch too. He sees it, and his eyes twinkle all the brighter. He gestures with a thumb over his shoulder toward the town.

                “I saw an all-night café when I was running from those cops earlier. You look like you might wanna get out of here for a while.”

                For a moment, she’s silent, fighting another quiet smile. Then she remembers why she wants to escape in the first place, and the warmth in her chest fades.

                “Yes. That…sounds good.”

                The café is small, out of the way- he must have run a long way from those cops- and has the best milk tea she’s ever tasted. Sun practically vibrates across the table from her with the desire to know what’s going on, why she would want to leave Beacon at such an ungodly hour, but she doesn’t feel like talking about it yet, and he doesn’t push. Instead, he regales her with the story of how he outsmarted the cops, how it was he came to be a stowaway in the first place, all the other hijinks he got up to back in Vacuo.

                When she learns his name- and it’s a good four hours after leaving Beacon with him that they finally swap names- her first thought is that it suits him. He’s so bright, not only in coloring but in attitude, and while it’s strange and foreign to her, it’s also incredibly refreshing.

Eventually, she finally does get up the nerve to tell him exactly who and what she is- and somehow it’s much easier with him than it really should be. She’s not sure how she expects him to react. Part of her predicts that he’ll turn on her, or turn his back on her, but she tells him anyway.

He defies all her expectations. He accepts what she has to say with only a modicum of shock and moves on; there’s no change in the way he treats her or the way he looks at her, and that makes the earlier warmth return to float like a gentle haze through her chest. She can’t remember the last time she felt so at home with another person. So at home it her own skin.


	9. Sketch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She draws what she thinks about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place after the first episode of the second season of RWBY. :) Enjoy.

                The White Fang is never far from her thoughts, and the result is the myriad of sketches that pepper the pages of her notebook. There are images of their symbols, old and new, of their flag, and of Adam, who always seems to be bound up with the White Fang in her mind.

                She hides them from the others; they would worry about the White Fang sketches, and ask questions about Adam’s, and she’s not ready for that. The ache has grown less over the last few months, between the support of her friends and Sun’s easy acceptance, but it’s still there, and she’s starting to think it always will be.

                “You still have breadcrumbs in your hair.” Sun chuckles, reaching across the table and plucking crumbs from her dark tresses. She looks up from her notebook to cast him a glare, and he raises his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, no touchy; I’ll just let the birds get it then.”

                She narrows her eyes and drops her attention back to her drawing- Sun won’t ask, and if he does he won’t expect a real answer- and reaches up to run a hand through her hair. She can feel him smirking, and ignores him.

                “That was so great.” Sun comments, as though they had been in the middle of a conversation. It’s a habit of his, one she’s learned to enjoy more the more time she spends in his company. “You should have seen the look on Neptune’s face!”

                She hides her own smirk, filling in the first line of a fresh sketch.

                “He ran away awfully fast.” She murmurs. Neptune had hung out with her and Sun for all of five minutes before taking his leave.

                “Yeah, well.” Sun’s grin broadens, and he leans back in his seat, linking his hands behind his head. “He was practically drooling on Yang’s boots, sooooo….” He shrugs. “He probably went back to look for her.”

                “Mmm.” She nods, sips her tea, goes back to drawing. There’s silence for a few moments, but it’s the comfortable kind. She draws, he downs a banana he stole two streets back, and she basks in the easiness of spending time with him. Then he tosses the banana peel over the balcony’s edge and stands up, running a hand through his hair.

                “I gotta run. See ya later!” he leaves her with a grin and a wink, jumping over the balcony’s edge after the banana peel, and she smiles after him when he’s gone. Then she glances down at her notebook again and blinks.

                Someone else might mistake her drawing for a jumble of lines, but she knows exactly what it is. She’s not sure if the tugging at the corner of her mouth is the precursor to a smile, or a frown, but she puts her pencil back to the paper. Sun’s hair doesn’t look right without his head attached.


End file.
